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ETJLOG-T 



ON THE 



LIFE AND PUBLIC SERYICES 

F 

ABEAHAM LINCOLN, 

LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, 

DKLITERED BY PUBLIC REQUEST, IN 

CHRIST M. E. CHUECH, PITTSBURGH, 

THURSDAY, JUNE 1, 1865» 

BY 

HON. THOMAS WILLIAMS. 




\%^y' 



PITTSBURGH: 

PRINTED BY W. S. HAVEN, CORNER OP WOOD AND THIRD STREETS. 

1865. 



EULOGY 



ON THE 



LIFE AND PUBLIC SERVICES 



ABRAHAM LIl^COLK 



LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, 



DELIVERED BY PUBLIC REQUEST, IN 



CHEIST M. E. CHUPtCH, PITTSBUEGH, 



THURSDAY, JUNE 1, 1865. 



BY 

HON. THOMAS WILLIAMS, 




m /^ 



mJ-r 



PITTSBURGH: 

PRINTED BY W. S. HAVEN, CORNER OF WOOD AND THIRD STREETS. 

1865. 



L4-57 



1 



Mayor's Office, 
riTTSiiUKGH, June 2, 18G 



.} 



To the Hon. Thomas Williams: 



Dear Sir — At a recent meeting, held by a 
hirge number of the leading and influential citizens of Pittsburgh and vicin- 
ity, a resolution was unanimously passed, requesting me, as Chairman, to 
procure from you a copy of your eloquent and truthful Eulogy of the late 
President Abraham Lincoln. 

Your compliance with this request will greatly oblige 

Your most obedient servant, 

JAMES LOWRY, Jr. 



Pittsburgh, June 2, 1865. 

Hon. James Lowry, Jr. 

Dear Sir — In accordance with the request of the 
meeting of which you have been made the organ, I hand you for publication 
a copy of the Eulogy which I had the honor to pronounce at Christ M. E. 
Church, on the evening of the 1st instant. 

I am sorry that the performance is not more worthy of the theme and the 
occasion. 

Thanking you, however, for the flattering terms in which you have been 
pleased to speak of it, 

I am, very truly, Yours, 

THOMAS WILLIAMS. 



EULOGY. 



We meet in gloom. But yesterday our streets were jubilant, and 
the very heavens ablaze with the bright pomp of a rejoicing multi- 
tude. But yesterday our temples were vocal with songs of raptur- 
ous thanksgiving for the great victories that had been vouchsafed 
to our arms. To-day no jubilee solicits us. No 'loud huzzas — no 
"aves vehement" — no hurrying feet — no hymns of triumph salute 
our ears. It is the hour of darkness, as these sad emblems indicate. 
A nation mourns. A mighty people throngs its wide-spread sanctu- 
aries, to lament its martyred Chief, but just returned from the 
overthrow of the armed array that menaced its own life, to die in 
the very hour of his triumph — in the fancied security of its own 
capital — under the blaze of a thousand lights, and a thousand ad- 
miring eyes — and in the midst of the brave hearts that belted him 
around, and would have spilled their life's best blood to shelter him 
from harm — and to die, oh God of Justice I by the stealthy and 
felonious blow of an assassin. In such a presence, and with such 
surroundings, the chosen Ruler of this great Republic — the kind, 
the generous, the parental magistrate, who knew no resentments, 
and had never done aught to deserve an enemy — has bowed his 
venerable head upon his bosom, and laid down the high commission 
with which he had been so lately reinvested by the popular acclaim. 
"Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope the temple of the Lord's 
anointed, and stolen out the life of the building." The pulse of 
the world has stood almost suspended by the earthquake jar that 
shook its continents and isles, as no event of modern times has 
done. A multitudinous people — "in numbers numberless" almost 
as the stars of heaven — thrilled with horror, and smitten dumb 
by the fearful atrocity which flashed upon them, unheralded by 



6 

any note of warning, over the electric -wires, have uncovered their 
heads and wept, as no people ever wept before, as the funeral cor- 
tege swept by, with its precious but unconscious burthen, over moun- 
tain and plain, and along the rivers and the lakes, in its long and 
melancholy journey to the far Western home which he was to see 
in the body no more. The earth has opened to receive all that the 
nation could give back to that now desolated home, and we are 
here to-day, b}" the appointment of his successor, to bow in reveren- 
tial submission and acknowledgment before the Hand that has 
smitten us, and to draw such consolations as are possible, from the 
consideration that the chastisements of God are sometimes mercies 
in disguise, while we water with our tears the fresh grave of the 
heroic martyr, who has crowned his great work by the offering of 
his own life upon the same altar where the blood of so many vic- 
tims had already smoked to heaven. 

Yes ! Abraham Lincoln is no more. All that could die of him 
who has defended and rebuilt the tottering structure of our fathers, 
has passed from earthly view, by a transition as abrupt as his who 
laid the foundations of the Eternal City, and then, according to the 
legendary epic of the Roman State, was wrapt from mortal vision 
in a chariot of fire. The shadow of the destroyer has mounted 
behind the trooper, and the grim spectre of the grisly king followed 
close upon the pageant of the avenue. The wise and prudent ruler 
who was commissioned of God to lead this people through the fiery 
trials from which they have just emerged — the chief who had just 
been lifted on their bucklers for a second time to the supreme com- 
mand — the idol of the popular heart, Avho had so recently been 
crowned anew at the Capitol with the symbols of a nation's power, 
the insignia of a nation's trust, and the rewards of a nation's 
gratitude, amidst the thundering salvos of artillery, and the re- 
sponsive voices of an innumerable throng, has ceased to listen to 
the applauding shout, and passed from the regards of men, into 
the serener light of an abode beyond the stars, where the banner 
of war is furled, and the hoarse summons of the trumpet, and the 
roll of the stirring drum, no longer awaken either to the battle or 
the triumph. 

On two occasions only in our brief but eventful history, the hand 
of death has fallen upon the head of this great Republic. On 
both, however, it descended in a period of public tranquility, by 



the quiet and gentle ministration of nature, without shock and 
without disturbance. The fruit fell when it was ripe, and the nation 
grieved, but not as those who are without hope. It paused but 
for a moment to cast its tribute of affection on the tomb, and then 
hurried onward in its high and prosperous career. For the first 
time now, in the very hurricane of civil strife, a bloody tragedy, of 
fearful aspect, and more than mediaeval horror, forestalling the dis- 
solving processes that are interwoven with the law of life, has 
snatched away the man who, above all others, was most dear to us, 
almost in the twinkling of an eye, in high health, and in the very 
crisis of his great work, when the regards of the world were most 
intently fixed upon him, and the destinies of a nation were trembling 
in his hands. It* is as though an apparition had stalked, in the 
midst of our rejoicings, into the very presence of the festal board, 
and it is under the projecting shadow with which that ghastly 
shape has darkened the whole land as with a general eclipse, that 
I am asked to discourse to you of the merits and services of the 
extraordinary man, who has thus disappeared from amongst us 
after having enacted so large a part in the greatest and most im- 
portant era of the vrorld's history. It is a task which is never 
easy in the performance, and cannot be faithfully executed until 
the lapse of years shall withdraw the observer from a proximity 
that is always unfavorable to the clearest vision, and the work is 
consigned to the pen of impartial history. It is one, however, 
which I have not felt at liberty to decline. 

Of Abraham Lincoln there is little to be said, until the voice of 
the people called him from the comparative obscurity of a provincial 
town in the remote "West, to preside over the destinies of this He- 
public. The story of his life, antecedent to his appearance on that 
broader stage, where he was destined to command more of the 
observation of the world than any other man either of ancient or 
modern times, is soon told. Born in a frontier settlement in Ken- 
tucky, of humble parentage, and with no prospective inheritance 
but that of the coarsest toil, it was not his hard fate to wear out 
his life in the hopeless struggle for success, to which that nativity 
would have consigned him. At the age of six years, his parents, 
warned by no vision, but by the stern necessities of life, removed 
from the house of bondage, taking the young child with them, to 
grow up in the freer air of that great Territory, whose fundamental 



8 

ordinance had insured the respectability of labor, by forbidding any 
bondsman from ever setting his foot upon its soil. There, in the 
vigorous young State of Indiana, without even the aid of a mother's 
care beyond his infant years, he shot up — we know not how — into 
the lofty stature and robust manhood which have since become so 
familiar to us all, diversifying his labors, and indulging that spirit 
of adventure that is so common to the pioneer, by embarking, at 
the age of nineteen years, as a working hand, at the scanty wages 
of ten dollars a month, on one of those primitive flat-boats on which 
the western farmer of those times was wont to launch his produce 
on the bosom of the Ohio, to find its only market at New Orleans. 
At the age of twenty-one years, Avithout any better prospects in 
life, and inheriting apparently the migratory instincts of his father, 
who had perhaps grown weary of his Indiana home, he plunged 
with him into the further West, and sought and found a new settle- 
ment on an unreclaimed quarter-section of the public lands in 
Central Illinois. That he must have shared the humble labors of 
that parent in winning his new acquisition from a state of nature 
into a habitable abode for man, is obvious from the fact that so 
limited an area, on the extremest frontier of civilization, could 
have afibrded no great scope for employment but with the axe or 
plow, and no means whatever for mental culture or development, 
except those powers of thought and observation, which the solitudes 
of nature, and the communion of the forest and the field, have 
sometimes awakened in those gifted spirits that seem to be im- 
mediately inspired of God. Within a year or two, however, the 
occurrence of what was called the "Black Hawk War," drew him 
from a seclusion which must have been extremely irksome to a 
youth of lively temperament, and overflowing health, by offering 
the temptation which the pursuit of arms almost invariably pre- 
sents to the young and ambitious spirits of the land. He enlisted 
in a company of volunteers, who forthwith selected him as their 
captain, but his aspirations for military renown were soon cut short 
by the unexpected termination of the war. His next appearance 
is as a candidate for the Legislature of the State, to which he was 
repeatedly elected, and about the same time he turned his attention 
to the study of the law, and was duly admitted to the Bar. What 
preparation he may have made for this transition to another and a 
higher field of labor, is unknown to us. lie has the credit of con- 



fessing, with that simplicity which drew from him tlie acknowledg- 
ment that he had never read the works of the great master of the 
drama, that he had enjoyed the advantage of but six months' 
schooling in the whole course of his life. That he had read such 
books as were accessible to him, is not to be doubted. Report says 
that he had picked up in some way a little knowledge of surveying, 
which may have served to train and discipline his reasoning faculty, 
and was, as will be remembered, the youthful employment of the 
great Washington himself. Beyond this, however, little Avas re- 
quired in the infant condition of a frontier settlement, which would 
have few attractions for men of such acquirements as only an old 
community could afford; although it is not to be questioned that 
some of the robustest intellects in the land have been nurtured in 
those primitive and truly republican schools, where no hot-bed cul- 
ture was admissible, and every sickly plant was doomed to die. 
Whether he succeeded in attaining any great distinction in his new 
profession, where success is dependent generally on a peculiarity 
of taste or mental structure, and where industry is so often an 
over-match for talent, is by no means clear. We do know, how- 
ever, that his abilities and worth were duly recognized at home by 
his triumphant election in 1846 to the Congress of the United 
States — where he served, however, but for a single term — as well 
as by the award to him, by common consent, of the championship 
of the Free State party, on the occasion of the controversy which 
grew out of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill. In 1856 he was presented 
by his State, and supported largely, as a candidate for the office of 
Vice President on the Republican ticket of that year ; and in the 
canvass of 1858, as the accepted candidate for Senator, he discussed 
before the people of Illinois the question of the extension of slavery 
into the Territories, in a series of debates which riveted the atten- 
tion of the nation, by the clearness of their statements, and the 
immense logical power which they displayed. It was perhaps to 
the publicity of these efforts that he was mainly indebted for the 
great distinction conferred on him by the Convention of 1860, in 
singling him out, above all competitors, as the standard-bearer of 
the army of freedom in that memorable campaign. 

And this brief narrative — compiled from unauthentic sources, 
and making no pretension to the accuracy of biography — is a sum- 
mary of his career until called by Providence to enact a part that 



10 

has been assigned to few men in history. IIow he performed his 
duty is perhaps best evidenced by the difficulties he had to meet, 
and the final result of the war "which pervaded his whole adminis- 
tration. He bargained only for a peaceful rule, like that of his 
predecessors. If he could have foreseen the magnitude of the task 
that was before him, he might well have shrunk from the trial. 
He would have been a bold man, who, with such fore-knowledge, 
would willingly have taken the helm in such a storm as howled 
around him on his advent, and strained the timbers of the ship of 
state for so many long and weary years. To him the place, how- 
ever exalted and honorable, was one of anxious and unsleeping 
care. No man can tell how much of agony it cost a heart like his. 
It is to that point of his career, however, that our inquiries are to 
be directed, if we would know the man. The history of the great 
rebellion, comprehending all or nearly all of his public life, is em- 
phatically Ids history. It began and ended with his administration 
of the government. He succeeded to a divided sceptre. He lived 
just long enough to re-unite the broken fragments — to re-plant the 
starry banner of our fathers on the battlements whence treason had 
expelled it — to see the arch-apostate who had seduced a third part 
of the States from their allegiance, a wanderer and a fugitive — 
and to leave to his successor a once more undivided Union. 

With this slender preparation, however, and with no previous 
training in the mysteries of government, he was translated to the 
Federal capital in the most eventful crisis of our history, to take 
upon his shoulders such a burthen of responsibility as no President 
had ever been called upon to bear. The assassin lurked upon his 
path. Already the Southern horizon was red with the fires of in- 
cipient rebellion. Already State after State, encouraged either by 
the premeditated treason, or the helpless pusillanimity of the miser- 
able imbecile who stood pale and trembling at the capital, had shot 
madly from its orbit. The strongholds of the Union, constructed 
at great expense for the protection of the South, had been either 
seized by violence, or basely surrendered by their garrisons. The 
seat of our National Government was reeking with disloyalty. 
While treason was the badge of respectability there. Republicanism 
was tabooed as something that Avas only vulgar and vile. The 
Bureaus of the several Departments were swarming with malig- 
nants, who were looking anxiously in the direction of the South for 



11 

an irruption of the rebel hordes, and ready to surrender the keys 
of their offices on the first summons of the public enemy. There 
wrs no direction in which the President could turn for support, in 
the contingency of any concerted movement to prevent his inauo-u- 
ration. The army, inconsiderable in itself, had been detached to 
distant cantonments, where it could afford no aid, and was sure to 
become an easy prey. Its officers — the eleves of our military 
school — the most of Southern birth, but some of Northern oriffin, 
debauched by their associations, or with naturally slavish instincts 
and unbounded admiration for Southern institutions and Southern 
men, were generally disaffected to the Union, whose bread they 
ate, and whose flag they were sworn to defend. Not a ship of war 
was to be found upon our coast ; not a soldier at the capital to de- 
fend the person of the Chief Magistrate of the eountry, except, 
perhaps, a slender escort, of more than doubtful loyalty, improvised 
for the occasion by the Lieutenant General, upon the urgent im- 
portunity of men who realized the danger of a coup d'etat, as the 
new President himself did not. There was nothing, in fact, but 
the mere prestige of the office, the habitual respect for the person 
of the Chief Magistrate, and the probable re-action that would 
ensue upon any demonstration of violence, and, above all, the well- 
understood determination of the thousands of brave men who were 
assembled there from the free States, secretly armed and ready for 
such an emergency, to prevent or punish any attempt that might 
be made on the life of the President. And yet he did not shrink 
from the ordeal, but there, on the steps of the capitol, under the 
blazing sunlight, in the presence of all that innumerable concourse, 
and in the hearing of a listening world, in terms of kindness, and 
not of menace, but with a seriousness and solemnity that were not 
to be mistaken, he proclaimed his firm and unalterable determina- 
tion to employ all the powers vested in him by the Constitution in 
maintaining the integrity and inviolability of the Union, from sea 
to sea, and from the lakes to the gulf, and restoring to its authority 
every State and fortress that had been wrested from it by the 
hands of treason. Rebellion, already organized and armed, and 
confident of its superior prowess, received the announcement with 
derisive laughter, as but an idle vaunt on the part of a President 
who was without a soldier or a ship to batter down the very feeblest 
of its strongholds. JTe knew that there was an army in the fields 



12 

and "workshops of the North, which only awaited his call to do this 
work. A million of stalwart men sprung to their arms upon his 
summons, and the pledge was redeemed. The boastful chivalry 
went down before the sturdy arms and stormy valor of the men 
they had so foolishly despised; and where are they now who 
laughed to scorn the admonitions of that day, and arrogantly pro- 
claimed to their deluded followers that the capital of the nation, 
and the rich spoils of the opulent and crowded cities of the North, 
should be given to their victorious arms ? They have found only a 
grave, where they meditated an easy conquest. But Abraham 
Lincoln lived to see his pledge fulfilled. His work was done, and 
he too sleeps with his fathers. It had cost many priceless lives to 
do that work. It was to be consummated by the sacrifice of his 
own — the most priceless, perhaps, of all. The demon which he 
exorcised was to collect all his remaining strength into one expiring 
blow at the head of his destroyer, as he fled howling, and in de- 
spair, from the seat of his long cherished but now forever lost 
dominion upon earth. The final catastrophe was in precise keeping 
with the whole spirit of the bloody drama which it concluded. 
Beginning in treason, with perjury, and robbery, and starvation, 
and murder, as its handmaids, it could not have ended more fitting- 
ly than in the cruel, and cowardly, and revengeful assassination of 
the heroic leader who had stricken down the sacrilegious hand that 
was lifted against the nation's life. Miserable and short-sicjhted 
revenge ! The blow wdiicli prostrated our honored chief, while it 
made no interregnum, and paralyzed no nerve of the government, 
has been his apotheosis. The hand of the assassin is already cold. 
A swift retribution has overtaken the miscreant who was put upon 
this work, while the hands of justice are already laid upon the 
highest of its guilty authors, and the avenger of blood is tracking 
his accomplices to their last retreat. But they, too, will not 
altogether die. The obscurity that they might well pray for, is not 
for such as them. There can be no oblivion for such a parricide. 
The flash of that fatal pistol in the theatre at Washington, which 
sent its leaden contents crashing through the brain of our honored 
magistrate, will blaze around tliem like the gleam of the assassins' 
daggers that sought the great hearts of Henry of Navarre and the 
heroic Prince of Orange, and light their memories down, from age 
to age, through the long corridors of history. 



13 

It was a disadvantage, too, of no small moment to an untried 
man, to find himself surrounded by counselors of fair repute, Avho 
had either nothing to propose, or doubted the power or rightfulness 
of coercion in a government like this, or thought that even separa- 
tion itself was better than war, or hoped to patch up an ignoble 
truce, by compromising the questions in dispute, and furnishing 
additional and perpetual guarantees to the insatiable interest which 
had come to despise even the privilege of ruling this nation, as it had 
done before. It will scarcely be believed in future times, how many 
there were, enjoying the reputations of statesmen, who were com- 
mitted to one or other of these opinions. But while the question 
hung suspended between these conflicting views, although every 
concession had been proposed, and every effort toward compromise 
had failed, and while the nation was sweating in mortal agony, 
Avith seven States defying its authority, and formidable batteries 
rising from day to day under the shadow of our own guns, around 
our fortresses in Charleston harbor, the knot was happily untied 
by the impatient hands of the conspirators themselves. To secure 
the co-operation of the States that still stood hesitating, it was 
deemed necessary "to fire the Southern heart" by some stupendous 
act of violence, that should dig an impassable gulf between them 
and us; and their guns were accordingly trained, amid the sounds 
of revelry and the exultant huzzas of an intoxicated populace, 
upon the old flag that was still floating over the feeble garrison of 
Sumter. Tt was a gay tourney for fair ladies and gallant knights — 
an easy victory, but a short lived triumph. The walls of Sumter 
crumbled under the terrific storm that burst upon them from the 
hundred iron throats that girdled them around as with a cataract 
of fire, and its garrison succumbed. But the echoes of those guns 
lighted up a flame in the colder North, that melted down all party 
ties with more than furnace heat, and was only to be extinguished 
in the blood of the fools and madmen who had been taught by their 
Northern auxiliaries to look for no such answer to their defiant 
challenge. The President could hesitate no longer. Menace and 
insult had developed into open war, and the time had now come to 
redeem the pledge that he had made, by summoning the freemen 
of America to defend their flag. He called, and such an answer 
was returned as no people had ever before given to the summons of 
Jts chief. From town and country, from the lumbermen of the 



14 

pine woods of the Madawaska to the trappers of the upper Mis- 
souri, and the gokl hunters of the more distant sierras, as the 
reverberations of that trumpet-blast leaped from mountain to 
mountain, and pealed over the great plains and along the mighty 
rivers of the land, the old, the middle-aged, and the young, with 
one common impulse, and without distinction of party or of creed, 
with but a hurried farewell to wife, and children, and home, were 
seen thronging the iron highways to their respective capitals, and 
begging for the privilege of enrolling themselves among the de- 
fenders of their country, and dying, if need be, under the shadow 
of its flag. It was no monarch's battle. It was their own honored 
and glorious banner, the symbol alike of their power and their 
privileges, that had been insulted and defied. Away with the 
idea of caution and slow resolve, when such huge interests are 
at stake. That is for diplomatists and strategists. Men do not 
stop to calculate the odds, the chances, or the dangers, when it is 
a question of resenting contumely, or defending the object of their 
love. They did not wait to be schooled to a sense of their in- 
terests, or duties, or the necessities of the times, any more than to 
the knowledge of the use of arms. To affirm, as has not been un- 
usual in high places, that they require to be educated by their 
rulers up to the level of such an occasion, is to ignore the whole 
experience of that memorable day, whose manifestations took the 
doubting by surprise, and so utterly confounded all the calculations 
of the few amongst ourselves who looked for, and had promised a 
divided North. The call itself was but a response to the poj^ular 
desire, which had anticipated it. The answer was an assurance to 
the Government that it would be sustained in every measure of 
severity that the crisis might demand. 

But it was a still greater disadvantage to the new Executive, 
that the full import of this rebellion was not even comprehended 
by many of those to whom he was expected to look for advice, in a 
crisis where the ordinary responsibilities of the office were so much 
enlarged. Although its causes, its history, and its objects were 
obviously such as to render a compromise impossible — although the 
leaders of the revolt had voluntarily abdicated their places in the 
government, and gone out from us, when they might have dictated 
their own terms — and although they had contemptuously spurned 
every overture for negotiation, and affected no concealment of theii: 



15 

deep-seated and implacable hatred not only of ourselves, but of our 
very form of government — there were still sanguine and credulous 
men in eminent positions, who believed that the rebellion could be 
suppressed in ninety days — not by war, but by diplomacy — not by 
striking at its causes, but by ignoring them — not by punishing its 
authors, but by indulging them — not by a change of measures, but 
by a persistence in the very policy that had brought it on. In the 
view of men like these, every forward step was fraught with danger. 
Even the pimple and obvious proposition to repeal the law that 
made the capital of a free nation the home and market of the slave, 
and the fruitful nursery of the rebellion itself, was represented as 
so full of mischief, at such a time, that the President himself was 
almost staggered by the shadowy forms of terror that were evoked 
to stay his hand. If he had yielded to them, we should not have 
reached the great measure of the proclamation for at least another 
year, if ever. It met the same resistance as the other, but the 
practical good sense of the President, backed up and fortified by 
the high courage and unanswerable logic of at least one member of 
his Cabinet, at length overmastered all these influences, and the 
great charter of the black man was produced before them as a 
measure upon which he had already privately determined, upon his 
own responsibility to the nation. It is due to the just fame of 
Abraham Lincoln, that the world, instead of dividing the honor of 
the act with other possible claimants in future times, should know 
how little he was aided in the task — how much of opposition he was 
called upon to meet — and how much of moral heroism that act in- 
volved. It was no trifling disadvantage, certainly, to a new and 
unpracticed statesman, in a position of such unusual responsibility, 
to be surrounded with men of weak nerves, who had not the cour- 
age to face the exigency which their own counsels had precipitated. 
The occasion called for intrepid statesmen, as well as generals, 
who, with a just confidence in the people, instead of stopping to 
calculate the possible odds, and betraying a hesitation that at least 
resembled fear, and thereby throwing away all the advantages 
which the possession of the government gave them, would have 
struck at once, and with lightning-like rapidity, at the very heart 
of the rebellion. The sublime response which the people had 
already made, was an assurance that they could be trusted. It 
was a sore trial, too, for them to see their fiery legions condemned 



16 

to stagnate in inglorious repose, until, in some instances, their terms 
of service -were about expiring, while their very capital was be- 
leaguered by an insolent banditti, whom they could have swept like 
chaff before them. No government in the world could have sur- 
vived it but our own, and it is no marvel, therefore, that some of 
the most enlightened statesmen of Europe, educated in the tra- 
ditional notion that the democratic idea was a delusion, and that 
a government like ours, though formidable in external war, was 
helpless for self-conservation, and must fall a prey to the first in- 
testine convulsion, and reasoning from the abject condition and 
low intelligence of the people around them, should have hurried to 
recognize the rebels as belligerents, and staked their reputations 
on the opinion that the great American Republic, the wonder and 
terror of the world, and the standing reproach of all its monarchies, 
was rent irreparably in twain. I do^^not speak of this now as a 
thing to be regretted. It seems as though, in the providence of 
God, it had been intended not only to cleanse this land of its great 
sin, but to confound the unbelievers in the high capabilities and 
lofty destinies of our race, by passing us through the fiercest fire, 
and contriving every possible test — even to the final catastrophe of 
the assassination of our Federal Head — to establish the great fact 
of the ability of man to govern himself, and to dispense, under all 
circumstances, with the machinery of hereditary rule. A difi'erent 
policy, by rendering the task an easier and a speedier one, would 
have left the world and ourselves much to learn of our resources 
and capabilities, and much of the barbarism of that institution 
which it would have left substantially intact, to breed new re- 
bellions, and exact new sacrifices from our posterity. 

It was under these influences, strengthened as they were by an 
apprehension not apparently removed by the enthusiasm with which 
they responded to the call of the President, that the people were 
not yet up to the real level of the crisis, and not prepared for the 
adoption of such earnest measures of repression as a state of war 
' demanded, that the armies of the Union were brought into the 
field. It was not for the Cliief Magistrate, of course, to direct 
their operations in person. But his generals were unfortunately 
either men of Southern birth, or men who had been educated in a 
feeling of profound reverence for Southern institutions. With 
them it was almost profanation to invade the sacred soil of a 



17 

sovereign State. With them the treason of their ancient comrades, 
if not a chivalrous virtue, was only the infirmity of a noble mind. 
Perjury and ingratitude the blackest and most damning — rebellion 
and treachery the most wanton and unprovoked — implied no stain 
upon the personnl honor of their enemy. Longstreet and Jackson 
were models of Christian virtue — Lee and Beauregard unblemished 
specimens of elegant and Avell-bred gentlemen — every ingrate 
especially, who had betrayed the Government that reared him, an 
Tionorahle man. No "kind regard" was forfeited by their base 
defection; no hand refused in friendly greeting, though red with 
a brother's blood; no fervent "God bless you," left unuttered 
because the recipient had blackened his soul with the foulest and 
basest crime that history records. To have opened their camps to 
a loyal negro, would have been a violation of the constitutional 
rights of his rebel master. Knightly courtesy required his return. 
To have hearkened to the evidence he brought of the strength and 
position of the enemy, would have been a violation of the rule 
which disqualified him as a witness against his master. Rebel ex- 
aggerations for purposes of efiect, were more acceptable than the 
simple, unvarnished truth from the lips of a runaway contraband. 
What success was to be hoped for, with such instruments ? The 
President himself both saw and felt the difficulty. His patience 
was severely tried, but what was he to do? If he ordered a move- 
ment in advance, the weather was either too cold or too hot — the 
mud was axle-deep or the dust intolerable. If made, it was done 
reluctantly, or with a protest, and the responsibility of a failure was 
with him. If refused, and he threatened to displace the officer, it 
was perhaps suggested to him, that the army or the people would 
revolt, while they were actually chafing with impatience — the re- 
bellion growing in strength — and the friends of the Government 
beginning to despair. In this dilemma, it became necessary for 
him to take up the question of an entire change of policy. The 
struggle was a long and painful one. If he had felt at liberty to 
consult the promptings of his own mind and heart, in a case where 
the life of a nation was depending on his decision, it would have 
ended as soon as it was begun. But his habitual caution, inten- 
sified by a just sense of his great responsibility as an officer, held 
his judgment in abeyance. His own good sense, however, tri- 
umphed at the last. Unaided but by the counsels of a faithful few, 
2 



18 

he took up the case, calculated all the elements that entered into 
it, and arrived, by a strictly logical process, of which the steps are 
now obvious, at the conclusion that the rebellion could only be 
conquered by the emancipation of the slave. He put that result in 
the shape of a Proclamation, and then summoned his Cabinet to- 
gether, not to advise, but to hear what he had determined. The 
picture of the consultation over this important document, is the 
merest fancy-piece. The point was decided by him before they 
met, and there was no demur, because there was no further room 
for objection. 

Nothing, however, is clearer than the fact that it was not the 
original purpose of Mr. Lincoln to interfere with slavery in the 
States. With all his strong convictions that it was a crime — that', 
in his own terse language, "if slavery was not wrong, there was 
nothing wrong" — his respect for the constitutional rights of the 
South was such as to over-ride his own private sympathies for the 
bondsman. With him, the leading, over-ruling thought — the idea 
nearest to his heart — Avas the preservation of our glorious Union, 
as God's chosen instrument on earth, and the one best fitted, Avith 
all its defects, to secure the peace and happiness of man. The 
other question was entirely subordinate to this. He was willing — 
to quote from him again — "to save the Union, ivitli slavery if he 
could, or tvithout it, if he could." His first idea, encouraged, if not 
inspired by the meii who had then his confidence, Avas, that it could 
only be saved by tenderness to that interest, Avhose extreme sensi- 
bility to danger — to say no worse of it — had brought all these 
troubles — these almost apocalyptic woes upon the land. Under 
these impressions, the Avar Avas Avaged for eighteen months, in such 
a way as to do as little harm as possible to that institution, in the 
hope that the rebels might be conciliated — as they had never been 
before — by the forbearance of the Government. It Avas only the 
current of events — the failure of this policy — the fuel furnished by 
the great expense, the tardy progress, and the inadequate results 
of the war, to the groAving discontent of the friends of the Govern- 
ment in the North — and the conviction that the policy of saving 
the Union with slavery must give Avay to the opposite policy, if it 
was to be saved at all — that drifted him into the position assumed 
for the first time in the Proclamation, and maintained Avith unAvav- 
ering constancy until the last hour of his life. That he should ever 



19 

have been persuaded to believe it possible to conciliate the men who 
had voluntarily abdicated their places in the government, only be- 
cause it was obvious that they could no longer hope to rule it perma- 
nently, is to be set down more to the account of his habitual caution, 
his strong conservative temperament, his deference to older heads, 
and his desire to give full scope to an experiment of an apparently 
innocuous character, enforced by the counsels of almost every man 
around him, than to the convictions of his own unbiased judgment. 
The case was one of conflicting systems and ideas, that might ad- 
mit of a truce, but of no compromise. It would have been but an 
adjournment of the question until the antagonistic forces had taken 
breath for a fresh struggle, while the rebel element was strength- 
ening itself in the meanwhile for new aggressions. The enforced 
connection between Liberty and Slavery was worse than incestuous. 
God and nature had decreed an eternal divorce between them. 
Our fathers, it is true, had made the experiment of reconciling 
these hostile elements — not, however, under the modern hallucina- 
tion that they would permanently combine, or coalesce, but only 
to keep the peace between them, until the weaker should disappear. 
The President had apprehended this, when he declared that this 
government could not be "half /ree and half s^aw." Mr, Seward 
himself had comprehended it, when he characterized the war be- 
tween the two systems as "an irrepressible conflict." As well 
attempt to blend darkness with light. The intermingled elements 
would produce only a disastrous twilight with perpetual jars, or, as 
the one or other interest predominated, either deepen into the 
chaotic gloom where the lost spirits are supposed to dwell, or flush 
into the rosy light of liberty. The Union could not have been 
saved with slavery, any more than a man could be made immortal 
with the seeds of death in his constitution. The inherent vices of 
the system were sure to bring about a conflict at last, by engender- 
ing and fostering the spirit that inaugurated it here, as they were 
equally sure to give to the contest itself a character of fierceness 
and atrocity which has appertained to no modern war. It was but 
a new phase of the old quarrel — as old as government itself — which 
has shaken the kingdoms and hierarchies of the world, and was 
destined to be fought out here, upon a wider arena than any that 
the Old World could ofi"er. If it was not comprehended, however, 
by ourselves, the governing classes in Europe, and the advocates of 



20 

unlimited power everywhere, had not failed to understand it from 
the beginning. 

The proclamation of freedom was the first decisive measure of the 
war. It inaugurated a new era, and proclaimed the purpose of the 
Government to wrest from the rebels their most effective weapon, 
if not to turn it against their own bosoms. The menace of it was 
at first derided as a mere hrutum fuhnen, by those who knew what 
was to be its effect, and dreaded it accordingly. As soon as it 
became obvious that this mode of attack was about to fail, the 
policy of the auxiliary rebel presses of the North was changed. 
Dire were their denunciations then of a measure represenied to be 
frauglit with woe to helpless womanhood and feeble infancy, and big 
with the unutterable horrors of a servile war. Its promulgation was 
soon after followed by the elections of 1862, whose unfavorable 
results — attributable only to the public weariness of the inaction of 
our armies — were adroitly placed to the account of this threatened 
measure. By those who did not understand the temper of the 
President, or the process of reasoning by which he had reached 
that point, it was greatly feared that he would falter, when the 
hour of trial came. But alike regardless of the gloomy auguries of 
the timid, and the storm of obloquy and denunciation that burst 
upon him from the sympathizers with the rebellion here, he stood 
unmoved, and the bolt sped at the appointed hour, and shook the 
rebol capital to its foundations, as it lodged in the very heart of 
the Confederacy. Dismay sat on every face at Bichmond. If a 
shell had exploded in that pandemonium, where those dark con- 
spirators against the rights of man were then assembled, a greater 
consternation could not have followed. In the midst of " a uni- 
versal hubbub wild, of stunning sounds, and voices all confused," 
like that of chaos, which "assailed the ear with loudest vehem- 
ence," a dozen members were on their feet at once, with retaliatory 
propositions of the wildest and most atrocious character. But if 
there was gloom there, there was joy elsewhere. The great heart 
of humanity dilated at the tidings. The wearied soldier stretched 
by his camp-fire, and joined till then in unequal battle, was lifted 
up and comforted. Four millions of bondsmen raised their unfet- 
tered hands to Heaven to call down blessings on the head of the 
deliverer N>ho had broken their chains. The patriot felt that the 
arm of the country was strengthened at home and abroad by the act 



21 

that had at last vindicated the solemn truths of our immortal De- 
claration, and placed our Government once more in harmony with 
its own fundamental principles. Instead of any further necessity 
of humbling ourselves, by holding out to foreign powers a menace 
of emancipation, as the signal for a servile war, in order to deter 
them from an intervention which they never Avould have ventured 
on — and never could, without the risk of ruin to themselves — it was 
no longer possible for any Christian nation to take sides against 
us. It was the turning point of our great struggle, and the death 
warrant of the rebellion itself. And it was just because they felt 
and knew it, that it roused among its ruling spirits all the devilish 
passions that flamed out most fiercely during the latter period of 
the war. It foreshadowed the appearance of the black man himself, 
at no distant day, with the harness of the Union on his back, as a 
combatant in the arena on the side of liberty. From that day 
forward, with only the occasional vicissitudes to which all wars 
are subject, the banner of the Republic, with its new blazonry of 
Freedom, never drooped or went backward in battle. God was on 
our side. The holiday generals, great on the parade — the strategic 
imbeciles — the half-hearted martinets — who were more solicitous to 
protect the chattel than to punish the treason of the master, gave 
place to a race of earnest men — heroes of the Cromwellian type 
— who felt the inspiration of their work, and with a faith that no 
reverses could shake, and no disaster disturb, were ever ready to 
second or anticipate the fiery ardor of their legions, by giving a full 
rein to the spirit that had chafed and fretted under inglorious re- 
straint, whether it was to plunge into the fastnesses of the Rapidan, 
to scale the Alpine passes of the Tennessee, or to sweep with 
resistless force across the sunny plains of Georgia. The rebellion 
was doomed, and the baleful star that had rushed up with the ve- 
locity of a meteor into the forehead of the sky, and shed its porten- 
tous glare for a moment upon the nations, plunged down again into 
eternal night, to be remembered hereafter only as one of those 
scourges of humanity, that are sometimes let loose upon the earth 
for high and inscrutable purposes. 

But it is not for me to follow the history of this long and bloody 
struggle through all its varying fortunes to the period of its final 
consummation. That is a task which belongs to the historian. It 
has some points of interest, however, that are not unworthy of 



22 

commemoration, and not unsuited to the occasion that has brought 
us here. 

The scene that has just passed before our vision, was such as has 
been presented to no other generation of men. Few of us have 
perhaps fullj realized the importance of the part that has been 
assigned to us in history. The records of our race have nothing 
to offer so grand and imposing as this bloody conflict, in its mag- 
nitude, its causes, its theatre, and its details. A peaceful nation, 
schooled only in the arts of quiet industry, entirely unfamiliar 
with the use of arms, holding itself aloof from the political compli- 
cations of the old world, and but thinly diffused over half a conti- 
nent — imagining no evil, and fearing none from others — is suddenly 
startled from its repose by the blare of the trumpet, and the roll of 
the martial drum, and summoned to the defense of its institutions, 
its liberties, its very life, against a wicked conspiracy, organized in 
its own bosom for the purpose of destroying it. It not only re- 
sponds to the call, but astonishes the world by an exhibition of 
unanimity, and zeal, and high religious fervor, which have had no 
example since the era of the Crusades. In utter forgetfulness of 
self, of danger, and of the comforts and emlearments of home, it 
covers the earth with its living tides, as it rushes to the rescue of 
the object of its love. Over a region almost as wide as the united 
kingdoms of Europe, a million of brave hearts are marshaled in 
armed array, with implements of destruction such as no age hath 
seen. Along the Atlantic coast, across the great rivers, and the 
boundless prairies of the mighty West, over the swamps and 
savannas of the distant South, through forest, brake and wilder- 
ness, through bayou and morass, over rugged mountains, and along 
the cultivated plains that laugh with the abundance with which 
industry has covered them — the earth shakes with the tread of em- 
battled hosts, while bay and gulf swarm with innumerable prows, 
and the shores against which the tides of two oceans break, are 
belted around with those leviathans of the deep, which bear our 
thunders, and are destined hereafter to proclaim our power in the 
remotest seas. It is the battle of the Titans, with fitting accesso- 
ries, with lists scarce less ample, Avith enginery as complete, and 
upon a theatre almost as stupendous, as that which the genius of 
Milton has assigned to the armies of angel and archnngcl joined in 
battle for the supremacy of Heaven. The Old World, till now 



23 

ignorant of the power that had been sleeping here, stands amazed 
at an exhibition which its united kingdoms woukl in vain essay to 
match. It comprehends at once the whole significance of the 
struggle. It is the world's battle — the same that has been fought 
so often with other watch-words, and on other fields — the old con- 
flict between antagonistic social forms — between the people and the 
kings — between the privileges of caste and the Republican idea 
of equality. It feels that the interests of all its ancient, and hoary, 
and moss-grown establishments — its thrones and hierarchies alike 
— resting on the prescription of a thousand years, and buttressed 
by the still older traditional idea, that man is unfit to govern 
himself, are staked on the issue of this contest. It sees, or thinks 
it sees, in the martial array of the disciplined legions of the Con- 
federacy, inflated with pride, and sneering at the base-born hinds 
and greasy mechanics of the Free States, the impersonation of the 
mailed chivalry who rode down the miserable Jacquerie of France 
five hundred years ago. Forgetful of its treaties of commerce 
and amity — oblivious even of its own apparent interests, in the 
maintenance of due authority and subordination between govern- 
ment and subject — ignoring alike the usages, and customs, and 
comity of nations — it does not find patience even to await the issue 
of a battle. The disruption of this great Republic — the standing 
reproach and menace of royalty in all its forms — is assumed as a 
fact accomplished, upon this mistaken view, and the additional 
postulate of its statesmen, that a structure like our own, however 
prosperous or formidable against external violence, is without the 
power of self-preservation, and must inevitably perish on the first 
internal convulsion. It does not even stop to inquire into the 
special provocations, if any, for this wanton and wicked rebellion 
against authority and humanity. Professing to make war against 
the slave trade, denouncing it as piracy, and employing fleets for 
its suppression, it does not even revolt at the unexampled, and 
atrocious, and anti-christian idea of a government, boldly and 
shamelessly declaring its only purpose to be the perpetuation of 
human bondage — an organized piracy, and a systematic attack upon 
the rights of man. In its anxiety to aid the cause on which its 
own institutions are depenrling, it hurries with an indecent precipi- 
tancy into the recognition of a belligerency, that will enable it to 
serve the interest in which it dares not venture openly to draw its 



24 

sword, by throwing wide its ports to the privateers of the enemy, 
and fitting out its own cruisers to prey upon our commerce on the 
seas. Its governmental press, aided by its hireling scribblers here, 
is prostituted to the base employment of showing the inevitable 
failure of our great experiment, by maligning our brave defenders, 
and libeling our sainted President. Its Ministers at our own 
capital, prompted by the same instincts, and sympathizing openly 
with our enemies, and equally ignorant of the people to whom they 
are accredited, advise their sovereigns, and are allowed to proclaim 
here openly without rebuke, that our career as a nation is at an end ; 
and inwardly rejoice with them, that a power declared by themselves 
to be too formidable for the world's peace, and too formidable to 
be safely met either upon the sea or upon the land, by their united 
strength, has perished miserably by intestine strife — the supposed 
inherent and unavoidajple disease of the republics of all times. 

How great has been its error ! How disappointed all its flatter- 
ing prognostications ! How utterly has all its boasted wisdom been 
confounded by events ! How deeply does it now tremble in the 
presence of the great fact, which it is yet reluctant to acknowledge, 
that this nation, with all the sympathies of the governments of the 
world against it, has proved its indestructibility, by a trial which 
no European State could have outlived ! But how inexpressibly 
grand and sublime — what a spectacle for men and angels, has been 
the attitude of this people throughout the fiery trials of these four 
eventful years ! What a theme for an epic such as Milton or Tasso 
might have written — the great Republic of the Western Hemi- 
sphere — the world's last champion — charged with the loftiest in- 
terests that ever were committed to the guardianship of man — 
belted around by enemies, open and secret, who were thirsting for 
its destruction — torn by intestine strife, and bleeding at every 
pore — without the sympathy of any one of the ruling powers of 
earth, and with no help but the prayers of the faithful few in all 
lands, who looked upon its star as the last hope of the oppressed — 
standing alone, like a solitary rock in the ocean, with the tempests 
howling wildly around it, but flinging off the angry surges which 
dash and break against its sides, and bearing aloft with intrepid 
and unfaltering hand, amid the wild uproar of elemental war, the 
broad ensign of our Fathers — the pledge of freedom to universal 
7Tian ! If the enemies of liberty now tremble in our presence, it 



25 

is not more from the dread of a resentment, whicli they feel 
to have been justly merited, than from an apprehension of the con- 
sequences of the sublime lesson of constancy, and faith, and self- 
sacrifice, and persevering courage, which we have given to the 
world, throughout a contest commenced under circumstances the 
most adverse, and prosecuted by the people themselves, Avith a 
more than royal munificence, as essentially tlieir war, and the first 
in history that has been so recognized. 

In no aspect of the whole case were the eminent prudence and 
lofty patriotism of our great leader more strongly exemplified, than 
in the forbearance and moderation with which he ignored these 
transparent evidences of unfriendliness on the part of foreign 
governments, aggravated, as they were, by the mcst indecent person- 
al attacks upon himself. Without personal resentments, and great 
enough to despise abuse, even if he had felt it, he knew that the 
success of our struggle was the best answer that could be made to 
those who wished us ill. He is already avenged in the only way 
in which his great heart would have desired it. The bloody cat- 
astrophe that hurried him from our sight, has flashed upon the 
European world with a suddenness which has swept down the 
barriers of prejudice, and extorted even from his enemies the con- 
fession, that in him a truly great man — of the pure American 
type — of far-reaching sagacity — of unexampled modesty and 
moderation — has fallen. The powers of language almost fail to 
convey their now exalted sense of the high-souled magnanimity 
with which he has forborne to respond in kind to the many provo- 
cations that have been offered. He is pronounced by great authori- 
ty in England "a king of men" — not in the Homeric sense, as 
used in reference to the Argive chief — not because, like the wrath- 
ful Achilles, whose ire was fruitful of unnumbered woes, he was 

"Impiger, iracimdus, inexorabilis, acer," — 

but because he was precisely the opposite of all these — peace-loving 
and placable, even to a fault. It stands admitted, that no word of 
his can now be found in all his foreign intercourse, to convey a 
menace or reproach. And then his exalted benevolence of heart — 
his moderation in the hour of victory the greatest — the entire 
absence of all natural exultation over a fallen foe — these, these 
are confessed to be so rare, as to take him out of the roll of vulgar 



26 

conquerors, and lift him high above the ordinary level of humanity. 
It cost him nothing, however, to forgive, or even to compassionate 
an enemy. He was indeed much better fitted for the office of a 
mediator, than the function of a jvtdge. It would have wrung his 
more than woman's heart to have been compelled even to do execu- 
tion upon the guiltiest of the conspirators, as it did to put his 
name to the warrant that consigned the spy or the deserter to 
eternity. In thus according to him the palm of magnanimity — 
which is only another word for go-eatness of soul, as its etymology 
implies — the highest eulogy has been pronounced on him that 
human lips could utter. His moderation in victory was but part 
and parcel of the same high attribute. 

Nor is it to be forgotten, while making these admissions, that 
there were other circumstances connected with this rebellion, that 
put this high quality to the severest proof, and rendered it im- 
possible to indulge a sentiment so elevated and ennobling, without 
great peril to the general cause. Though war is, in all its aspects, 
even the most favorable, the direst scourge that Providence has 
ever permitted to afflict the earth, it has no form so hideous as the 
intestine strife that arrays brother against brother, and arms the 
father against the son in murderous conflict, and doubly intensifies, 
by its very unnaturalness, all the brutal and ferocious passions of 
our fallen nature. The family quarrel is proverbial for its bitter- 
ness, while the odium theologicum is the stereotyped, but feeble ex- 
pression, of the rancor which has sometimes crept into the contro- 
versies of even Christian men. In the present case, however, there 
was a feature superadded on the one side, that lent ten-fold ad- 
ditional horror to the contest. The institution of human slavery — 
the prolific source of all our woes — tracked into the palatial man- 
sions of the lordly proprietors, by a Nemesis wdiicli always follows 
upon the heels of a great wrong — as though Providence intended 
that Nature violated should always vindicate herself — had expelled 
from them every broad fraternal feeling — all that recognized the 
common brotherhood of humanity — and ended by unsexing the 
women, and making wolves and tigers of the men. All that was 
said of that institution, sometimes blasphemously mis-named divine, 
by the author of the great Declaration himself, had been already 
realized in the temper and condition of Southern society. To speak 
of these as barbarous, in the language of a learned and eloquent 



27 

New England Senator, was, in the judgment of the more charitable 
and fastidious hero, an offense against good taste and truth, that 
was thought by them to have deserved the felon blow that proved 
it to be true. The picture drawn by him was supposed by many 
to be greatly over-charged. How inadequately he portrayed its 
hideous aspect, is now seen in its conduct of this devastating war, 
which it has forced upon the country, and under which it has buried 
itself, thank God ! so deep that it can produce no future eruption, 
even by turning uneasily in its grave. Hell never engendered 
such a monster, though "woman to the waist and fair" as her who 
sat as portress at its gates. There is no page of history so dark 
and damning as that which will record the fiendish atrocities of 
which it has been guilty, in an age of light. The manufacture of 
the bones of Union soldiers, left to bleach unburied on the soil 
where they fell, into personal ornaments for the delicate fingers of 
high-born Southern dames, or drinking cups for their chivalrous 
braves — the mutilation of the corpses of the uncofiined dead — 
the cold-blooded and systematic starvation and butchery of prison- 
ers of war — the efforts to destroy, by wholesale, rail road trains, 
filled with innocent women and children — the employment of hired 
incendiaries to swing the midnight torch over the spires of sleeping 
cities — the invocation of the pestilential agencies of the miasma of 
the Southern swamps — and the diabolical, though unsuccessful 
attempt to inoculate our seaboard towns with the deadly virus of 
the plague — all are but episodes in the bloody drama that culmi- 
nated in the assassination of the President. The cannibal of the 
South Sea Islands, and the savage of the American forests, who 
dances around the blazing faggots that encircle and consume his 
victim, have been over-matched in cold-blooded ingenuity of torture, 
by the refined barbarians — the Davises and Lees, and other "honor- 
able and Christian " gentlemen — who have inspired and conducted 
this revolt. God will witness for the North, that with all these in- 
human provocations, and with a necessity that seemed almost in- 
evitabje, of putting an end to horrors siich as these, by a system of 
just and exemplary retaliation, it has dealt with those great crimi- 
nals with a degree of forbearance that has no example, and has but 
too often been mistaken by them for want of spirit, and a whole- 
some fear of their great prowess. When they went out, they were 
but Avavward children, and we entreated them kindly. To spare 



28 

their blood, we permitted them to envelope our defenses at Sumter, 
without resistance, when we could easily have prevented it. To 
keep the peace with them, we hesitated even to victual its starving 
garrison. When we were smitten, we did not even smite them in 
return. It was only when they flung insult and defiance at our 
country's flag, that we felt our pulses quicken, and our blood 
kindling into flame. But even then, we could not fully realize that 
they Avere indeed our enemies. Our camps were closed against 
their slaves. Their officers, when captured, were treated with a 
distinction that made them feel that they had done no wrong, and 
dismissed on their paroles of honor, although they had been guilty 
of a base desertion of our flag. Their men were fed and clothed, 
and afterward exchanged as prisoners of war. And for much of 
this feeling they were indebted to the temper of the President, 
who held in check the impetuous ardor of the North, and incurred 
the risk of alienating his most steadfast friends, by a moderation 
so unusual in stormy times. There was no period, indeed, in which 
he would not have opened his arms to receive them back, without 
humiliation to themselves, and with the welcome that was accorded 
to the repentant and returning prodigal. His last expressions in 
regard to them were kind; his last measures intended to smooth 
the Avay for their return. And in recompense for all this, "with 
wicked hands they slew him" — their best friend — just when his 
heart was overflowing with mercy and forgiveness for themselves. 
He had not learned — because his was not a nature to believe — that 
no kindness could soften or reclaim the leaders of this unholy re- 
bellion. It was not a mme only, but a blunder the most serious on 
their part. Whether actuated by private malice, or stimulated by 
public ends, there was no time at which the blow that struck him 
down could have been dealt with less advantage to their cause, and 
so little personal detriment to him. If he had survived, he could 
not, in the course of nature, have looked for many years of life, 
and might have lived to disappoint the expectations of his friends, 
in what would probably have proved the most difficult part of his 
task, by a policy of mercy that would have brought no peace. 
The suppression of the rebellion was but the first step in the pro- 
cess of restoration. With the odds so largely in our favor, there 
could not at any time have existed any rational doubt as to the 
result of the contest, under any rational direction. It was not so 



29 

much the loar^ as the peace which was to follow, that was dreaded 
by the wise. To suppress an armed rebellion was one thing; to 
reconstruct a government, resting, not on force, but on co-operative 
wills, Avas another and a higher task. The one called only for 
material agents; the other demanded the ripest wisdom of the 
statesman. The sword was the instrument of the former; a keen- 
er, subtler, and mightier instrument was required for the latter. 
It is not impossible that President Lincoln, with all his great 
qualities, might have failed at this point. If stern rigor and ex- 
emplary justice — if the confiscation of the property, or the exile or 
disfranchisement of the leaders of this wicked revolt, the dark 
assassins of our peace — if an absolute refusal to treat with those 
miscreants at all — were essential to the permanent restoration of 
peace and harmony in the land — as they are believed by many men 
to be — there was at least room for apprehension, that the kind and 
gentle spirit, the broad, catholic charity of our dead President, 
would have unfitted him for the task. It was a remark of one of 
the Greeks, that no man was happy, or sure of posthumous renown, 
until the grave had closed upon him. Abraham Lincoln's work 
was done, and done successfully. He had disappointed nobody in 
the Free States, except the enemies who had hoped to rob Mm of 
the glory, and the country of the advantage of finishing up a task, 
which they had prematurely denounced as a failure. He is now 
beyond the reach of censure, or unfriendly criticism, with his 
record made up for history — honored and lamented as no man ever 
was before him ; embalmed in the heart of a nation that has fol- 
lowed him to his tomb ; doubly endeared to them by the cause in 
which he died — by his death as well as by his life ; and surrounded 
by a halo that has invested him with a world-wide fame. Grieve 
not, then, for him. The blow that took him from our arms was 
but his passport for immortality. The nation has lost a President, 
but Abraham Lincoln has won an imperishable crown. 

The time is not now to subject the minute details of his adminis- 
tration to searching criticism. That men should differ in regard to 
this or the other measure of his policy, is not unreasonable. It 
was his fortune, as might have been expected of a caudous man, in 
a revolutionary era, to find himself occasionally at variance with 
his friends, as well as with his enemies. If he was sometimes too 
conservative for the former, he was always too radical for the latter, 



30 

and was sum, therefore, to secure tlie good will of neither ; but 
he yielded slowly to the indications of public opinion — which he 
folloived only, and did not lead — and was generally sure in the end 
to bring the extremes into harmony, by disappointing both, and to 
find the public mind prepared to approve his acts. He explored 
his ground with care, and having reached his conclusion at last by 
long and patient thought, he stood upon it with a firmness that 
nothing could shake. With him there was no step backward. 
Having once planted himself on the ground of emancipation, as a 
necessity of state, by a process of laborious induction, he never 
afterward lost sight of that object, and never faltered in the execu- 
tion of his plans. Adopted only as a means, because the restora- 
tion of the Union was his only end, it became at last so far an end, 
that he refused even to treat for that restoration upon any other 
condition than the absolute extinction of slavery, to which he now 
stood pledged before the world. It was partly because he then 
occupied a stand-point that opened to him a wider and more com- 
prehensive field of vision, and enabled him to see that the Union 
could really be saved upon no other terms than those of absolute 
justice to the black man. The public mind had ripened with his 
own under the torrid atmosphere of revolution. The acts of his 
administration are, however, to be estimated in the light of the 
exceeding novelty, and the great responsibilities of his position. 
It is no fault of his, even if a bolder policy might have resulted in 
earlier success. Men are always wise after the fact, but in his 
position, with the fate of a nation in his hands, there was no place 
for rash experiments, and he might well decline to take the risks, 
which others, without responsibility themselves, might have insisted 
on, in opposition to the opinions of advisers who were supposed to 
be better schooled in the aifairs of nations than himself. 

And yet few men have understood the people better than 
Abraham Lincoln. With no advantages of education Avhatever, 
his associations had been more with men than books. His thoughts 
and style of expression all bear the impress of that early school. 
His ideas flowed in the same channels as theirs. No man was 
more at home with them, or better understood the art of winning 
their confidence, just because they recognized the relationship, and 
felt that his heart pulsated in unison with their own. His mind 
and character were indeed the natural growth of our free institu- 



31 

tions, and he was so eminently a representative of them, that no 
other country couhl have produced his counterpart. A higher 
culture would only have disguised the man, by paring down the 
r:>ugh edges, and wearing aAvay the individuality that so much dis- 
tinguished him. Condemned to wrestle with poverty from the 
outset, he was indebted, no doubt, for a large share of the robust 
vigor of his genius, to that healthy development which results from a 
successful struggle with the accidents of fortune. Thus educated, he 
owed nothing of his success in life to the cultivated manners, or the 
bland and insinuating address — the ready coin of society — which 
the people are so often willing to accept as substitutes for learning 
and ability, and to which so many of our public men are indebted 
for their personal popularity, and their great success in the arena 
of politics. It would be difficult to find a man more unsymmetrical- 
ly put together, or more essentially awkward and ungainly in his 
personal presence. It would be still more difficult to find a man so 
free from all pretension, so plain, and simple, and artless in his 
manner, and with so little apparent consciousness of the important 
part that he was enacting, or the great power that he had been 
called upon to wield. The necessities of state ceremonial — the 
ordeal of a public reception — were obviously the things that he most 
dreaded and disliked. It was impossible for one who knew him 
well, to look upon him there, or in a scene like that which attended 
his last inauguration at the Capitol, surrounded as he was by the 
ambassadors of all the croAvned heads of Christendom, glittering 
in the gay tinsel and the heraldic insignia of their several orders, 
with a thousand bright eyes directed from the galleries upon that 
unassuming man — himself the central figure of the group — without 
feeling that he was under a constraint of posture that did violence 
to his nature, and Avas as painful as it was embarrassing. The ex- 
pression of his countenance, on such occasions, was one of sadness 
and abstraction from the scene around him — except when some 
familiar face Avas recognized, and greeted in the throng that 
croAvded to take him by the hand. It Avas only in the retirement 
of his own private audience-chamber that the whole man shone 
out, and that he could be said to be truly himself. And there, 
Avith a perfect abandon of manner, surrendering himself, Avithout 
constraint, to just such posture, however grotesque or inelegant, as 
Avas most agreeable to himself, feeling that the eye of the Avorld 



32 

Avas no longer on him, and forgetting that he was the ruler of a 
mighty nation, at a time of unexampled anxiety and peril, his eye 
and lip would light up with an expression of sweetness that was 
ineffable, while ho interested and amused his auditor, by the ease 
and freedom of his conversation, and the inexhaustible fund of 
anecdote with which he enriched his discourse, and so aptly and 
strikingly illustrated the topics that he discussed. They err great- 
ly, however, who suppose in him any undue levity of manner, or 
assign to him the credit of having been a habitual joker. If he 
told a story — and it was perhaps of his early life and experience — 
it either pointed a moral, or winged a thought to the mark at which 
it was aimed — and left it there. He was not long in divining the 
true characters of his visitors, and if he indulged in pleasantries, 
it was either to gratify their tastes, or to parry the impertinences 
to which he was so frequently subjected. Peculiarities so striking 
as those of Abraham Lincoln, are always singled out for broad 
caricature. A common face or character is altogether unfitted for 
the purpose. But like many men who have acquired a reputation 
for sprightliness and humor, the cast of his mind was deeply 
serious. With the grave and earnest, who came to discourse with 
him on important matters of state, he was always up to the height 
of that great argument ; and there are few men living, with his 
imperfect training, and so little acquaintance with books, who can 
express their thoughts with more clearness, or force, or propriety 
of speech, than himself. He talked as he wrote, and the world 
knows with what originality, and precision, and felicity of phrase — 
without a model or a master — he dealt with the many perplexing 
questions that were presented to him. His style was indeed sui 
generis. Everything he wrote has the marks of its paternity so 
strongly impressed upon it, that the authorship cannot possibly be 
mistaken. Nobody could imitate him ; " nobody but himself could 
be his parallel." He had much of the genius of Swift, without 
any of his cynicism. Without polish or elegance, there was, how- 
ever, an elevation of tone — a vein of deep faith, and of high re- 
ligious trust, pervading some of his state papers, and especially 
his last inaugural address, that have placed the latter, in the judg- 
ment of some of the best European scholars, far above the range 
of criticism. 

But his crowning attribute — the one that won for him so large a 



33 



place in the hearts of the people — so much more of true affection 
than has been ever inspired by the exploits of the successful war- 
rior — was the large humanity that dwelt in that gentle bosom, 
which knew no resentments, and was ever open to the appeals of 
suffering. No feeling of vengeance ever found a lodgment there. 
No stormy passion ever stirred the quiet depths, or swept the even 
surface of his tranquil temperament. No wife or mother, who had 
begged her way to Washington, to ask the pardon of an erring 
husband, or the discharge of a wounded or a dying son, was ever 
refused an audience, or ever retired from that presence without in- 
voking Heaven's choicest blessings on the head of the good Presi- 
dent, who could refuse nothing to a woman's tears. The wives and 
mothers of America have just paid back the tribute of their over- 
flowing hearts, in the floods of sorrow with which they have deluged 
his grave. If he had a weakness, it was here, but it was such a 
weakness as angels might confess, and histoiy will not care to ex- 
tenuate. That his good nature was sometimes imposed upon is not 
improbable. For times and places such as his, a man of sterner 
mould is sometimes absolutely necessary. It is greatly to be 
doubted whether that gentle heart could ever have been persuaded 
to pronounce the deserved doom upon the guiltiest of the traitors. 
The crushing appeal of the wife and mother would have melted 
down his stoicism, like wax before the fire. His last Cabinet con- 
versation, as officially reported to us, was full of tenderness and 
charity even for the rebel general who had abandoned our flag, and 
connived at the butchery of our prisoners. The word was scarcely 
uttered, before the gates of mercy were closed with impetuous re- 
coil, and the gentle minister, who would have flung them wide, was 
removed forever, to give place to the inexorable judge. The awful 
form of Justice now appears upon the scene, to deal with those 
whom mercy could not mollify, while a world does homage to the 
great heart that is forever at rest. 

Yes ! Abraham Lincoln rests. "After life's fitful fever he sleeps 
well." His work on earth is done. No couch of roses, no bed of 
luxurious down was that which pillowed his aching head, during the 
four eventful years of his public ministry. No doubt his worn and 
jaded spirit panted for repose. He must have felt, as the clouds 
lifted around him, and the horizon of the future was all aglow with 

3 



34 

the splendors of the coming day, that he was about to enter on the 
full fruition of his long cherished hopes of a ransomed and re- 
united land. He had already scaled a height, from -which the eye 
of faith might sweep the boundless panorama of a happy conti- 
nent; lapt in the repose of universal brotherhood — its brown forests 
and gold-bearing mountains bathed in the tranquil sunshine, and 
sleeping in the quiet solitude of nature — its lakes and rivers alive 
with the glancing keels of an abundant and industrious commerce 
— its plains dimpling with golden harvests — and the tall spires of 
its multitudinous cities, the resorts of traffic, and the homes of 
learning and the mechanic arts, pointing to the skies. But it was 
not his fate to enter into that rest which such a vision might have 
foreshadowed. Another and a more enduring, was to receive him 
into its cold embrace. He dies unconscious — without warning, and 
without a struggle — in the very hour of his triumph — in no darkened 
chamber — tossed by no agonies on an uneasy couch — with no 
lamentations and no wail of woe — no harrowing, heart-breaking 
farewells — to disturb his spirit in its heavenward flight ; but by an 
unseen hand — in a moment of respite from corroding care — and in 
the presence of the people whom he loved. With so little to fear, 
he could not have made a happier exodus. How marked the con- 
trast between his own last hours, and the last of the public life of 
the rebel chief, whose wicked counsels have either inspired the blow, 
or strengthened the hand that reached his life : Abraham Lincoln, 
who never injured a human being, dying at the capital, in the hour 
of his triumph, with no rancor in his heart, and nothing but 
charity and forgiveness for his enemies upon his lips — and Jeifer- 
son Davis, with the blood of half a million of people on his hands, 
flying like a thief in the night through the swamps of Georgia, and 
captured in the disguise of a woman, without even one manly eff'ort 
at resistance ! It had been better for his fame, if he had died too, 
even as he had lived. The genius of Milton almost flags under the 
sublime story of the flight and fall of the apostate archangel, when 
conquered but not dismayed, he plunged over the crystal battle- 
ments of heaven, " with hideous ruin and combustion down," till 
startled Chaos shook through his wild anarchy. It was reserved 
for the guilty leader of this not less infamous revolt, to find even 
a lower deep, where the dignity of the epic muse can never reach 
him. 



35 

Rest then, honored shade ! spirit of the gentle Lincoln, rest ! 
No stain of innocent blood is on thy hand. No widow's tear — no 
orphan's wail shall ever trouble thy repose. No agonizing struggle, 
between the conflicting claims of mercy and of justice, shall afflict 
thee more. Thou hast but gone to swell the long procession of 
that noble army of martyrs, who left their places vacant at the 
family board, to perish for the faith in Southern dungeons, or to 
leave their bones unburied, or ridge with countless graves the soil 
that they have won and Avatered with their blood. Though lost to 
us, thou art not lost to memory. The benefactors of mankind live 
on beyond the grave. For thee, death ushers in the life that will 
not die. Thy deeds shall not die with thee, nor the cause or 
nation, which was aimed at in the mortal blow that laid thee low. 
What though no sculptured column shall arise to mark thy sepul- 
chre, and proclaim to future times the broad humanity — the true 
nobility of soul — the moderation in success — that, by the confession 
of his harshest critics, have crowned the untutored and unpretend- 
ing child of the prairies, as the " King of men ?" What though 
the <:[uiet woodland cemetery that shelters thy remains, and woos 
the pilgrim to its leafy shades, shall show no costly cenotaph — no 
offerings save those which the hand of affection plants, or that of 
nature sheds upon the hallowed mound that marks thy resting 
place ? What though the muse of history, who registers thy acts, 
and inscribes thee high among the favored few, to whom God has 
given the privilege of promoting the happiness of their kind, should 
fail to record the quiet and unobtrusive virtues that cluster round 
the hearth and heart, and shrink from the glare of day ? There 
is a chronicler more faithful, that will take thy story up where his- 
tory may leave it. The pen of the Recording Angel will write it 
in the chancery of Heaven, while the lips of childhood will be 
taught to repeat the tragic tale, until memory shall mellow into 
the golden light of tradition, and poesy shall claim thy story for 
its theme. But long ere this — even now in our own day and gen- 
eration — the cotton fields and the rice swamps of the South will 
be vocal with thy praise, while the voice of the emancipated white 
man shall swell the choral harmony that ascends from the lips of 
the dusky child of the tropics, as he lightens his daily toil — now 
sweet because no longer unrequited — by extemporizing his simple 
gratitude in unpremeditated lays, in honor of the good President 



36 

who died to make him free. The mightiest potentates of earth 
have labored vainly to secure a place in the memories and the re- 
gards of men, by dazzling exhibitions of their power to enslave. 
Both Memphian and Assyrian kings, whose very names had perished 
but for the researches of the learned, have sought to perpetuate 
their deeds and glory in the rock tombs of the Nile, and the un- 
buried bas-reliefs of Nineveh and Babylon, covered with long 
trains of sorrowing captives, manacled and bound, and dragged 
along to swell the victors' triumphs, or, perhaps, as votive offerings 
to the temples of their bestial gods. It was reserved for thee to 
find a surer road to fame, by no parade of conquest. No mournful 
train of miserable thralls either graces or degrades thy triumph. 
The subjugated are made free, and the hereditary bondsmen drops 
his galling chain, and feels that he is once more a man. If the 
genius of sculpture should seek to preserve thy name, it will pre- 
sent thee, lifting from their abject posture, and leading by the hand, 
with gentle solicitation, the enfranchised millions of a subject race, 
and laying down their fetters, as a free-will offering, upon the altars 
of that God who is the common Father of mankind. 



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